


I Am a Nightmare & You Are a Miracle

by BloodFireDragon



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Depressed Stiles Stilinski, Depression, FBI Agent Stiles Stilinski, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, POV Peter Hale, POV Stiles Stilinski, Panic Attacks, Road Trip, Steter - Freeform, Steter Reverse Bang, Steter Reverse Bang 2019, adorable Peter Hale, based on a playlist, healing together, lots of talking, mostly Stiles though - Freeform, switching POV, why do I always write so much talking?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 22:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19118845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodFireDragon/pseuds/BloodFireDragon
Summary: Stiles has just started life as a grown up... And hates it already.Plagued by depression and anxiety, he wishes for some way to escape everything that stresses him.As coincidence wants it, this way happens to be Peter Hale.~~~Written for the Steter Reverse Bang 2019





	I Am a Nightmare & You Are a Miracle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wreck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wreck/gifts).



> 'Sup? B)
> 
> So, this is my entry for the Steter Reverse Bang 2019, based on the playlist of my partner, Wreck.  
> (For some weird reason, I'm currently not able to embed the picture with the playlist here. I'll try to find some way, until then you can find it on my tumbr (that-bloodfire-dragon.tumblr.com)).
> 
> Have fun reading! :D

 

 

Stiles was exhausted.

 

Not in a physical way - his body's fine - but in an emotional way.  
Being an FBI agent was supposed to be super exciting. It definitely looks exciting in all those crime shows on TV.

 

But TV is a liar.

 

Stiles made it to become an FBI agent at the age of _freaking 21_. _Twenty One!_ You must be at least 23 to become an FBI agent, but Stiles Stilinski managed to change the big bosses' minds and did it with just _21 freaking years of age._

 

So you'd think that all of his so called "teammates" would feel honored to be on a team with the youngest ever agent the FBI has ever had, right? Yeah, but not such luck for Stiles.

 

Instead everyone treats him like an intern.  
"Stilinski, where's the coffee?" and "Stilinski did you call the technicians, to repair the copier?" were the two most "thrilling" and most frequent missions Stiles was trusted with.

 

Stiles hated it.

 

He knew everyone was mad at him, because of back in 2015, when he had still been an _actual_ intern, and had first annoyed everyone to death, about how much it would help his training if he got to come along, when the FBI would try to catch Derek Hale, and then just suddenly disappeared in the middle of the mission. And people got especially angry, when Stiles couldn't really explain where he had disappeared to exactly.

 

Some agents of the mission stated they swore to have seen Stiles being carried bridal-style by the person of interest, but fortunately there wasn't any proof and Stiles had managed to convince mostly everyone from the opposite.

 

Although there were still some rumors going around about serial killer Derek Hale having saved Stilinskis' life and Stilinski, in return, helping he suspect to flee from the FBI.

 

Stiles had fought so hard to keep his position; not to get thrown out of the internship. And he had fought so hard to become the youngest FBI agent ever...

 

But now all of that hard work felt like having been for nothing.

 

What good did it bring him to be so skilled and so enthusiastic about this whole crime investigator thing, when no one was willing to make any use of it?

 

But his teammates didn't like him; were irritated by all his babbling and the way he always wanted to jump right into every case and do researches and come up with theories and all that stuff...  
The FBI got its protocols and everyone has to follow them.

 

Even a hyperactive, young Tween with more experience in investigating against super-creep-psychopaths than all of the FBIs' agents together.

 

But of course he couldn't really tell that anyone, or at least probably no one would believe him.

 

And so no one knew of Stiles' qualifications, and no one seemed to mind to change that either.  
Stiles' team captain never gave Stiles any job in which he could actually help. There were so many cases already, which Stiles could have solved a lot sooner than the rest of his team did without him.

 

He simply didn't get why his boss didn't want to use any of Stiles' skills?  
After all, isn't that the job of a team leader? To figure out the best talents of each team member and use them in the best way possible?

 

But Stiles' boss didn't even bother to really get to know Stiles.

 

Stiles missed Scott...

 

Scott was a great team leader. A great Alpha.  
Sure, he wasn't perfect, but at least he tried. And, in the end, he really had become an incredible Alpha to his pack.

 

_Pack_... hmmm... Stiles missed his _pack_.  
_Real_ family. In which everyone really knew each other and cared about each other and looked out for each other.

 

But his pack was currently on break or whatever. Everyone was busy with work stuff, building families stuff...

 

_Adult_ stuff...

 

And Stiles?  
Well, Stiles wasn't sure if this whole " _adult thing_ " really was his kind of stuff.  
Work had become a routine, and if there's anything really, _really_ bad in this world, it's having a routine.

 

_Routine_ equals _boring_ , and _boring_ is unacceptable!

 

So work was a torture for Stiles, but he had to do it, after all he had to pay a rent and food and water and energy and... _urgh, all that stuff!_

 

All that annoying, stupid grown up stuff!

 

_Why is life like this?_ Stiles wondered pretty much every single day.  
Isn't the life of a grown up, of an adult, supposed to be amazing? That's what everyone believes as a child! That's why everyone wants to grow up at all!

 

So you're finally free, can do whatever you want to, because there's no one who can tell you what to do anymore! Because you're old enough and big enough for everything! Because you can go to bed whenever you want to or even not at all, and just stay up the entire night!! You can eat whatever you want, buy whatever you want, live wherever you want to, and you don't have to worry about a single thing anymore!!

 

Life as a grown up is supposed to be the _best thing ever!_  
It's supposed to be _freedom!!!_

 

But Stiles grew up.

 

And now he knows the truth.

 

And the truth _sucks_.

 

Being an _adult_ sucks.

 

 

 

How did the world become like this? What happened that people don't change anything about this?

 

Stiles sees how miserable all the other adults around him feel. But no one is saying anything. If you ask them how life's going, they simply answer: "Well, it's not how I had planned it, but it's okay, really. I earn enough money to pay rent and taxes, and I can feed my children. So, yeah, I'm not arguing; it's okay. It's okay."

 

_It's okay_ , Stiles thought in despise.  
How can you accept any situation in life - especially accept it as _permanent_ \- if it's only " _okay_ "?

 

_Okay_ isn't acceptable! It's almost as bad as _routine!_

 

But... was Stiles any better? Did he _not_ keep telling his friends and family the exact same thing, every time they talked, even though Stiles knew very well, that _nothing_ was " _okay_ "?

 

 

 

A shaky, heavy exhale made Stiles' chest tremble.

 

He's lying on the couch in his one-room-flat in Washington, D.C., thinking about what his life had become.

 

He had fought against grotesque werewolves with Molotov cocktails, had saved one of his closest friends ever from a psycho asylum, had beat countless of supernatural monsters and several professional hunter/killer groups of the supernatural.  
He had even survived being possessed by a Nogitsune, who had been drinking the life out of Stiles' body...

 

And yet, here he was. Just another human in his normal human everyday life, doing average human things, and having average human anxieties.

 

He used to be not able to sleep, because of the fear that one of his friends might get killed by a superpowered monster, that had kidnapped them.  
But _now_ he couldn't sleep, because of that heavy feeling on his chest - like a big stone, lying on his rip cage, trying to break through and squeeze his heart to death. That just wouldn't go away...

 

He didn't even know what was triggering it.  
That restlessness, all those cold, heavy breaths...

 

  
_Oh, no_...  
With a sudden shock, Stiles shot straight upwards into a sitting position.  
His heartbeat was increasing from normal to a million times faster in just a matter of seconds. His skin turned ice cold and sweat-ish hot at the same time.

 

Stiles knew this scenario all too well.  
He was having a panic attack. Or was it an anxiety attack?  
He couldn't even keep those two apart anymore.

 

Adult life had been stressing him out so much that both had become constant companions of his so called " _life_ ".

 

And Stiles wasn't even sure...  
He didn't know what exactly it was about his life, that was stressing him out so much.  
His payment from the FBI was quite good. Good enough at least to not have to worry about rent, energy, water, etc..

 

Was he really just so stressed, because he was bored by his job? Or because he was missing his friends, who he'd see again on the next holiday?

 

Or maybe... Maybe the stress came from being an adult itself.  
Or, to be more precise, from everyone demanding him to be an adult, but him actually not being ready yet...

 

After all, truth is: Our entire childhood over everyone gets told by grown ups to enjoy childhood and _be_ _children_ , because "you'll grow up soon enough". When we reach our youth everyone wants us to think about what job we want to do later in life and, therefore, what college or university we want to go to.  
But we still don't _really_ get prepared for the life of an adult.

 

And then, one day, we turn 18 or 21 or whatever, we finish school, and suddenly everyone believes, that just like that - from one day to the next - we know _perfectly_ how to be mature and serious, how to behave and think like an adult.

 

What people don't seem to get is, that it _doesn't work like that!_

 

Stiles was 21 now, and totally, absolutely, definitely _didn't_ feel like an adult!

 

No, what he _did_ was feeling completely and utterly _not ready_ for the life of a grown up!

 

And the worst thing was that he didn't even understand _why_.  
Because he _did_ feel _mature_. He had been only 16 years old, when he had stumbled into a cruel and brutal and _terrifying_ world of death and monsters and the feeling that every single person he meets is a hundred times stronger - and _deadlier_ \- than him.

 

And Stiles had not only _survived_ in that world for many, many years, but he had even learned how to _love_ it and see it as home.  
How to - despite all the death and tragedy and mourning and terror - have _fun_ and feel _love_ and _joy_.

 

Stiles didn't just believe, but he _knew_ that he was mature.  
Very likely even a lot more mature than most people will ever get in their entire lives.

 

And yet the adult life was trying to ruin him. To _kill_ him.

 

And while repeating the same breathing exercises that Stiles did every time, when he got a panic or anxiety attack, and massaging his aching heart through his chest, he admitted to himself: He did feel like it was succeeding...

 

 

 

~~~

 

 

 

The next morning had begun as usual: Stiles woke up, startled by his alarm, ate cereals for breakfast and looked for the tiny toy in the box. Then he went to work.

 

It could have been a good day, really. Or at least an average one.  
But as he said: Adult life sucks.

 

And so he found himself in the office of his boss, who yelled at the young FBI behind closed doors - Though so loud, that probably everyone outside the office could hear every word.

 

"-IS AN ABSOLUTE NO GO!!!!! WHAT IN THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING!? THERE ARE PROTOCOLLS FOR A REASON; AND THEY COUNT FOR EVERYONE HERE, INCLUDING A WANNA-BE WUNDERKIND FBI!!!!"

 

Stiles hated his boss.  
Yeah, actually, now that he was thinking about it: He really _did_ hate his boss.

 

But, then, why was he still working for him?

 

"Stilinski? Did you hear what I said?" his boss asked, snapping Stiles out of his thoughts. "I said, I'm sorry that I yelled you. I really shouldn't have done that. It's just that this isn't the first time that you ignored the rules. And I know, you think your way of doing things is more efficient and you only meant good, but that's just not how things work hear. You have to understand that, Stilinski. You have to understand that working as an FBI isn't like doing researches for school projects. This the real life. It's serious."

 

There were so many things running through Stiles' mind right now, that he would have so loved telling his boss.  
But reason won.

 

"Yes, Sir, I get it. I'm sorry." His voice sounded shallow and meaningless. And that's exactly how Stiles felt on the inside. Like nothing of this mattered.

 

"Alright, Stilinski. It's not that bad, just make sure it'll never happen again. Okay?"

 

"Yes, Sir."

 

~~~

 

When Stiles left his boss' office, all eyes were directed at him. His colleagues pretended to be busy, not to watch him, but Stiles could feel the glares following him - It felt like back in Beacon Hills, when a predator - usually a werewolf - was prying on him; hidden in the shadows of the trees of the forests; making the hairs on his skin stand up in alarm.

 

Stiles found himself thinking that he was more comfortable with being stalked by psychopathic werewolves, than being silently judged by his colleagues.

 

He tried to ignore them as well as possible and walked to his desk, but even before reaching it, he got aware of the hard, painful pounding of his heart. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides; desperately trying not to fidget in nervousness and anxiety.

 

_No, no, no_ Stiles thought. _Not now. Not here_.  
The last thing Stiles could need right now, was him having another panic attack, right in front of everyone else, and his boss, in the process, figuring out that Stiles suffered from depression, and probably wasn't really in the condition to work.

 

So instead of sitting down at his desk, Stiles just kept walking, straight out of the room, down the stairs of the building - not even caring to take the elevator - and right out of the front door.  
And then further. Not slowing down a bit. He just kept walking. Across the street, down the next one...

 

All he wanted right now, was to get as far away from work as possible.

 

He didn't really understand even _why_ he was freaking out so much. Sure, his boss had yelled at him, but he had also apologized and said Stiles' mistake wasn't such a big deal.

 

And Stiles knew, that it _had_ been his own fault. If he had just followed the protocols, then his boss wouldn't have had to yell at him in the first place.  
And Stiles had even been given a second chance.

 

So it wasn't so bad, was it?  
All he had to do now, was sticking to the rules from now on.

 

But that thought alone made Stiles angry.

 

Basically, what his boss demanded from Stiles, was to stop being himself and change, because otherwise it's not possible for anyone to work/live with him.

 

Stiles hated everything about this. Apparently everyone had a problem with him, with the way he was.  
But _why_? Stiles knew he could be annoying at times, but he also thought most of the time he's a really nice and friendly guy. Someone who you'd enjoy to be around with.

 

Was his perception really that wrong?

 

He knew he tends to talk a lot - and fast - and that, yes, he had a thing for breaking a rule or two... So, yeah, maybe he wasn't perfect, but who is?!  
After all, aren't we all works in progre--

 

... Okay... No, he really didn't want to quote a certain someone. He definitely had to change _that_ about himself. Alright.

 

But other than that, Stiles was pretty pleased with himself. He liked who he was; who he had become over the last half decade or so. He felt he was on the right way...

 

Or at least used to be, before moving to Washington D.C. and joining the FBI...

 

And yet, no one else seemed to be happy with him.

 

Why did he have to change to fit in? he wondered. Why could no one accept him the way he was?  
Why did everyone keep telling him there was no place in the world for someone like him?

 

_Pack_ , Stiles thought bitterly. He dearly missed his pack.

 

The stinging in his eyes from tears straining to be released, brought him back to reality. He realized he was still walking, not even knowing where he was going.

 

He probably should go back to work, he thought. He hadn't told anyone that he had gone, and if his boss found out that he had left work just like that, he would definitely get into more trouble.

 

But he really didn't want to go back yet. He needed to calm down, relax his emotions and hurting brain a bit.  
All that stress was extremely tiring.

 

He was thinking about going home, to his flat, but dismissed that idea immediately. Stiles' flat wasn't home. It didn't feel like home. More like a hotel or something. A place where he was just a temporary guest. He didn't feel welcomed there.  
Didn't feel like he belonged into his own flat...

 

Stiles stopped in his track, when he felt a single tear slide down his cheek.

 

In front of him, on the corner of a busy street, he spotted a tiny café.

 

A familiar, salty taste hit his tongue, when he licked over his lips, finally making a decision on where to go.  
He took a few deep, shaky breaths, swiped the wet track of his tear hastily off his cheek with the sleeve of his flannel shirt, and entered the café.

 

~~~

 

A wave of slightly too warm air to be comfortable and the smell of coffee and pastries hit Stiles, when the door behind him shut, accompanied by the high pitched ringing of a tiny bell above the door.

 

Stiles looked around, hoping no one would stare at him and see that he had been crying just seconds prior.  
But he was lucky. No one seemed to mind his presence.

 

The cashier was taking the money of an elder lady at the cash register, and the seemingly-only waitress was currently refilling the coffee mug of a man, who was sitting on one of the tiny tables that were rowed on the two sides of the café.  
All the other customers were just sitting, eating and drinking. Some were reading newspapers or staring at their phones. Others - more social - were sunken in conversations with each other.

 

Stiles enjoyed this.  
He felt better immediately, realizing that he could have his peace here, just sitting in silence and calmness; not bothering anyone and - in return - not _being_ bothered by anyone either.

 

He was glad the cashier was still busy with the lady in front of him. This way he had time to think about what to order, because now that he was thinking about it, he was actually quite hungry and wanted more than just coffee, but he really didn't like it, when the cashier was staring at him, while he was thinking about what to order. It always put him under pressure - Even if there wasn't anyone behind him in line and he actually had all the time he needed.

 

He just tended to put _himself_ under immense pressure all the time.

 

When it was his turn, he ordered a half of a sandwich and an iced tea - No coffee for him; he was hyperactive enough.  
The cashier gave him his order, he payed and turned around, looking a free spot to sit, when suddenly...

 

Stiles froze on his spot.

 

In the far corner of the café, on a small table right next to a large window, sat a familiar, middle aged man, dressed in a black leather jacket, drinking a cup of coffee.

 

Stiles couldn't believe his eyes.

 

Peter...  
Peter? Was that really him? In Washington?!

 

"Peter?! P-Peter Hale!?! What the fuck are you doing here?" he suddenly blurted out, without thinking.

 

~~~

 

Peter was just taking a sip of his hot macchiato, when the too loud voice of the awkward boy ripped him out of his calmness.  
Not that he was surprised - After all, he had seen how Stiles had entered the café. But he didn't expect the boy to suddenly yell out loud in the tiny establishment, gaining everyones attention.

 

Stiles seemed to notice. He was like frozen in place for a couple seconds, before he carefully looked around him, seeing how all eyes were directed at him.

 

He turned his head back at Peter, seemingly considering his options, and then, quickly took a seat in front of Peter, draping his arm over the back of his chair, playing the awkward moment from just seconds ago cool, like it totally didn't bother him.

 

"So?" the boy asked.

 

"So... _What_?" the wolf purred back, sensing a wild mixture of different emotions running through his opposite. Memories, probably. Triggered by Peters' voice.

 

" _So_ , what are you doing here?"

 

"This is a café, what do you think I'm doing here? I'm trying to enjoy a nice cup of brewery. Emphasize on _trying_."

 

"... What? No!" Stiles answered, a bit irritated. "Washington! I meant, what are you doing in _Washington_?"

 

"Vacation", Peter stated matter-of-fact-ly.

 

Stiles obviously didn't to believe him though, according to the offended look on his face. Just when he opened his mouth - probably to complain - Peter interrupted him.

 

"I got my reasons, alright? I'm not bound to spend my entire life in Beacon Hills, you know?"

 

"Sure." No question, that Stiles absolutely did _not_ believe Peter, but the kid seemed fine with letting the matter go. For now.  
Good for Peter, who really wasn't in the mood, right now, to explain his intentions and motivations to Stiles.

 

But there was something in the air... Something that irritated Peter.  
And it came from Stiles.

 

The smell of depression.

 

As much as Peter wanted to deny it to himself, but knowing that Stiles was in such a bad condition made the wolfs heart ache.

 

He knew Stiles since such a long time already, and knew through how much and how horrible things he had went, and nothing of that had ever ruined Stiles' mental health as much as it was now.

 

Peter wondered what could be so bad to break Stiles Stilinski...

 

"You're born in Beacon Hills too; you know how boring that town can get." A weak try from Peter to distract Stiles. "Ever since I was a teen, I wanted nothing more than to finally leave Beacon Hills as far behind me as possible... But as I once told you: A werewolf needs their pack. And my packs' territory was in Beacon Hills. So I was stuck there."

 

Peter was annoyed by the not-so-pleasant memories, but he noticed how Stiles - ever so curious - listened patiently and interested to the older mens words.  
It seemed to ease Stiles' nerves.

 

And so he continued.

 

"And then came the fire... Both freeing and trapping me at once. I was stuck at the hospital for what felt like an eternity, but afterwards- I mean, after not just my body, but my psyche as well, had finally healed, the fire also meant my freedom from Beacon Hills. As heartless as it may sound...  
"But my pack was gone. Nothing held me there anymore."

 

Silence settled between the two.

 

After a short moment, Stiles broke it.

 

"And now you just travel through the states, doing... _what_?"

 

Peter hummed in thought. "Nothing, really. I just drive. Without any destination. I can afford it. I got the money, time and no responsibilities whatsoever."

 

A sudden, loud throbbing caught Peters' attention.

 

Stiles' heartbeat.

 

It was pumping hard - And likely quite painful, too.  
Seems like Peter struck a nerve.

 

He considered asking, but didn't want to scare the kid away.  
As it turned out, though, he didn't have to. Stiles opened up on his own.

 

"Sounds perfect..." the boy mumbled in thought. "I-I mean, not the your-whole-family-dying part, of course. But... But the escaping-life-and-all-responsibilities-part..."

 

By now, the air in the café reeked of Stiles anxiety. A smell Peter absolutely couldn't stand.

 

"You wanna join me?" he asked blatantly. Stiles answered with a faked laugh.

 

"I definitely _would_ run away from my "life" right this second! But other than you, I'm not freaking rich. I can't afford fuel or even just a rent car, or food, or anything else, without going to work everyday. So it's just not possible for me!"

 

By the end of his desperate rambling, Stiles looked thoroughly done. Done with restrictions, done with responsibilities, done with work. Done with life.

 

Peter gave him a moment to catch his hitching breath, and especially to calm his racing heart at least a little bit.

 

And then, the wolf corrected the anxious kid.

 

"You didn't understand my offer, Stiles." Peters' voice was nothing more than deep, rough rumbling within his chest. And he noticed how Stiles' heartbeat slowed down a bit at hearing it. "I was asking you if you want to come and ride _with me_? I would take you along... If you want to."

 

~~~

 

Stiles didn't believe his own ears.

 

Did Peter Hale- _Peter Hale_ , the guy, who had cold blooded and revenge-driven killed dozens of people in an otherwise peaceful small town, and psychologically abused one of Stiles' best friends, and _physically_ hurt Stiles himself on several occasions... Really just offered Stiles to run away with him?!

 

Surely this must be some sort of trap. Peter was planning something...

 

Right?

 

But on the other hand, something inside of Stiles screamed at him to _do it_. After all, wasn't this _exactly_ what Stiles wanted? Or even more so, what Stiles _needed_?!

 

An escape from everything in his life that stressed him, made him anxious and hurt his heart... ? He had so desperately wished for some way to leave it all behind him; to finally get rid of everything that sucked and wasn't supposed to be part of his life. To get some control back over his life... ?

 

Stiles used to love his life. He lived the dream of every teen by being friends with werewolves, banshees and kitsunes. Used to feel like the happiest guy on earth...

 

But then everything became awful and he lost every bit of happiness that he once knew...

 

Yes, Stiles was sure about it. He needed some way to escape everything bad in his life. Everything that kept him from being who he is.

 

And if that way just so happens to be Peter Hale... Then, so be it.

 

~~~

 

A quarter hour later, Stiles found himself standing in front of the expensive looking car of Peter. It was modern and really fancy; chrome coloured with an elegant design.  
Something Stiles would very likely never be able to afford in his entire life.

 

Stiles found it reflected Peter perfectly.

 

His hearts pounding increased slightly, but notably, when he took place on the passenger seat. He was sure Peter noticed too, although the older man didn't show it.

 

Peter pulled the key and started the engine. And just like on cue, Stiles' heartrate jumped up several notches.

 

A million thoughts raced through Stiles' head yelling reasons at him for why it'd be practically suicide to drive to nowhere with a known serial killer. Who on earth, with even just a little, tiny piece of brain, would ever do something as idiotic as that!?

 

Without looking at Stiles - his eyes directed straight forward, onto the street ahead of them - the wolf gave Stiles his final warning, "Last chance, Stiles. It's now or never."

 

But all of a sudden, Stiles was absolutely and definitely sure.  
"I'm not running away from you."

 

A slight smirk pulled at one of the corners of Peters' lips.

 

And so, off they drove.  
Stiles looked out of the window, while Peter drove in the direction leading out of the city.

 

He saw stores and other buildings he knew, passing by, realizing that he wouldn't miss a single one. Even though he had spend over a year now in Washington D.C., nothing here felt familiar. Nothing and no one felt like he actually _knew_ it.

 

Peter on the other hand...  
Peter felt familiar.

 

That, of course meant, he knew how dangerous the predator was. How insane and manipulative. How untrustworthy...

 

But yet... Familiar.

 

And somehow, at the moment, Stiles found the known danger a lot more comforting than the unknown, the unfamiliarity of his adult life.

 

They reached the citys outer border - Probably the _really_ last chance for Stiles to jump out of the car, keep living his stupid-but-safe life-of-a-grown-up and pretend nothing had ever happened.

 

But Stiles realized how his heartrate was sinking. His nerves easing a bit more the farther they drove. And for some reason he felt like that hadn't only to do with the driving itself... But also with the fact, that he was driving with Peter Hale at his side.

 

For some super weird and probably totally unlogic reason Stiles felt at ease and even kind of safe - for the first time in a very long while... Even felt a little bit like he's back home, in Beacon Hills...

 

Stiles was finally feeling home again, now, when he's in a car with Peter Hale. Together fleeing from the world.

 

~~~

 

They drove planless, just like Peter had said, through the states. No aim, no destination. What also meant, they didn't have any time restrictions. They could take all the time of the universe, and drive wherever they wanted to, take any route they wanted to.

 

It was a truly freeing experience for Stiles.

 

On the first couple of days, Stiles found himself often thinking about his job. He still hadn't told anyone why he had suddenly left on that one day. And he definitely hadn't told anyone yet, that he had basically quit the job and probably would never return.

 

_Never return_ , the words echoed in Stiles' brain. He hadn't really thought about it, but now that he did, he was absolutely sure.  
He will _never_ return to Washington D.C.. He hated the place and the memories it brought to him.

 

He probably wouldn't drive with Peter or the rest of his life either, but still, he will never return to Washington.

 

Which made him think... He still couldn't really process the fact, that he had actually agreed to go on a road trip with the insane psychopath, who once tried to kill almost all of his friends!

 

_It was probably the depression_ , Stiles reasoned. _Depression numbs peoples brains and ability to think clearly. Depressed people shouldn't make important decisions._

 

But it was too late for Stiles, already.  
Although it wasn't that bad, he admitted to himself.

 

Peter and he drove pretty much all the time. They stopped at a motel or anything, instead they took shifts. One of them drove, while the other slept.

 

Which send a shiver down Stiles' spine.  
He probably shouldn't trust Peter that much. Sleeping next to the dangerous wolf. Presenting himself in all of his vulnerability, without any way to protect or defend himself in case the older man decided to hurt Stiles...

 

But Peter didn't. Stiles kept waking up alive and rested. Always finding the wolf behind the stirring wheel, focusing on the street.

 

~~~

 

And so they just kept driving, only ever stopping to refuel the car or refill on food and drinks. Sometimes they ate breakfast at small diners - Stiles loved the atmosphere there.

 

They drove along rocky coastlines and through bright lit cities that illuminated the night; crossed dark stretches of deep forests - Peter often opening a window, apparently to take in the familiar sent of pine trees and wet moss. A scent Stiles enjoyed too, although he couldn't sense it as well as Peter probably did.

 

On some days they visited cities and Peter took Stiles on sight-seeing tours and shopping sprees.  
Which, admittedly, made Stiles feel a bit insecure and weird.  
Even though, he knew, that Peter was like a millionaire or something, and also kind of owed Stiles something, after all the things he put him through, Stiles didn't want him to spend his money for him.

 

Stiles was used to having to pay for anything he wanted himself. Peter paying for him - even for things that weren't actually necessary, like new clothes - gave Stiles some weird vibes...

 

Why _was_ he paying for him!?

 

But Peter didn't let himself being talked to. So Stiles just had to accept the strange friendliness of the predator.

 

~~~

 

While they're on the road, Stiles and Peter used the time mostly to talk.  
During the days their conversations were mostly like what Stiles was already used from Peter: A lot of bickering and the usual exchanges of sass and sarcasm.  
It reminded Stiles of how much he had actually enjoyed most of his encounters with Peter, back when they both had still lived in Beacon Hills. Because, sure, many times, when he had met the wolf, it was under rather unpleasant circumstances, but, more often than that, meeting with Peter went peaceful and quite entertaining.  
Peter was the only person Stiles knew, who could really keep up with Stiles' sarcasm. They shared the same kind of humor, and, Stiles realized, they seemed to even be on a similar state of intellect.

 

So those days on the road with Peter were anything but boring for Stiles.  
And he had to find himself hoping that Peter enjoyed them as well.

 

Though, why? It's not like it's important to him how Peter feels about him right?

 

Or maybe it was... ?

 

Or Stiles just thought, that if Peter got annoyed or bored by Stiles, he might through him out and just leave him behind.

 

After all, Stiles really didn't get why Peter hadn't done that by now. Everyone got annoyed by him, sooner or later. And therefore also wants to get rid of him.

 

But Peter didn't seem to...

 

Days and nights with Stiles close around him. 24/7.  
And apparently he still didn't have enough of the boy yet.

 

Something which Stiles found definitely suspicious and made him wonder about Peters' motifs again. Why would he want to have Stiles around him and make him feel better? After all, it's not like they're friends or anything... Right?

 

But driving with Peter was so peaceful, so carefree, that Stiles really didn't want to keep thinking about it.

 

Instead rather blissfully ignoring every loud blaring alarm his mind was sending him.

 

~~~

 

Nights in the car felt completely different than the days.  
They, too, were great and all, but the atmosphere changed totally.

 

Very late at night or very early in the morning they usually slept, one after the other. But before that, they always listened to the radio, watched the road and simply enjoyed the moment.

 

Often they would start some conversation after a while, though _those_ conversations were usually very different from the ones they had, when the sun was up.

 

They were more serious and - much to Stiles' surprise - honest.

 

They talked about life and emotions and other weird stuff, Stiles normally never talked about with _anyone_ , not even his friends.

 

And especially not Peter Hale.

 

But it did good, he admitted. To finally talk about some things. He felt like maybe exactly _because_ Peter wasn't one of his friends, he could talk more easily with him.  
Because he wasn't anyone whose opinion mattered.

 

Or, at least, _should_ not matter to Stiles.

 

Although, the more time they spend together, and the more they talked, Stiles found himself caring more about Peters' opinions and the things the older man said.

 

And fortunately - and even more so surprising - Peter actually did seem to care. He listened patiently and interested to the things Stiles had to say. And the wolfs responses felt well-thought and sincere.

 

~~~

 

One night they somehow reached the subject about why Stiles had wanted to leave Washington so badly. Stiles told Peter with a heavy heart about his depression and anxiety.

 

It was weird saying it out loud. He admitted it to himself a while ago already - which had been hard enough a step -, but finally stating it to someone else felt so much more emotional.  
Stiles felt tears building in his eyes, but he fought them quickly back, although he expected the wolf could hear a slight tremble in Stiles' voice anyway.  
But when he turned his head to look at the wolf, he was more surprised, to find Peter completely unfazed.

 

Did he know about Stiles' mental health issues already?

 

Then Stiles remembered how werewolves can sense emotions, and he got angry at himself for forgetting.

 

He asked Peter if he had ever to deal with similar problems, when he had been a young adult. But Peter told him, that he never really had to become an adult; no one ever expected him to. His sister was destined to become the packs new alpha, so everyone was only focusing on her. What Peter did never mattered, so he was always able to do whatever the hell he wanted to.  
And since he was born rich, he didn't even have to graduate school or go to college or find a job or anything.

 

But then Peter quickly stated that he, too, had had some struggles with a few things. Though he obviously didn't want to go into any detail.

 

Stiles respected that. He was positively surprised enough, that Peter even shared those few memories of his past, with Stiles.

 

"You know, you did everything right, Stiles", Peter quickly changed the subject.

 

"What?" Stiles asked.

 

"With your job. I know, you think maybe your boss and your colleagues were right, and you should have done everything _their_ way... But that's not true."

 

Stiles stared at Peter for a moment, thinking.

 

"Yeah, but I completely messed up. _Because_ I didn't want to change to fit in."

 

"So what?" Peter snarled. "You only figured out that that job isn't the right thing for you. _You_ 're not the problem, Stiles. _They_ are. You solved so many cases in Beacon Hills; cases that no one, not the police and neither the FBI could solve. You're one of the most clever people I've ever encountered. They're idiots if they don't see that and don't make any use of your skills."

 

"... What?" Stiles was stunned. He couldn't believe how Peter could say that. Did he really see Stiles that way? "What are you saying? I mean, I know I'm clever, but really... just how... I mean... I'm not that great! I'm a total and utter mess! I'm-I'm just..."

 

_Completely useless_ , he thought. _Someone, who doesn't fit into this world._

 

"No, you're not", Peter immediately countered. "You don't seriously believe that. Stiles, you're a great guy! All those times you've risked your own life to save your friends? When you faced me all on your own, after I had bitten Lydia? How you helped Scott with his first full moon, even though he wanted to kill you? And all those other things you did, most which I probably don't even know about! That's something "a complete mess" would do! You're _not_. You're so selfless and brave and _loyal_." Peter laughed, amazed. "Stiles, you're probably the best werewolf I've ever met. Without actually _being_ a werewolf."

 

"Yeah, because being a werewolf equals being a pure angel", Stiles  replied sarcastically.

 

"No, it definitely doesn't", Peter answered, his voice quiet, as if sinking into deep thoughts. "But doesn't that just makes all the more impressive? Makes _you_ all the more impressive? All those things a werewolf can be... All those things a werewolf can _do_. And you're only the best. No predator, no murderer... No _monster_."

 

A sad expression covered Peters face like a shadow. His eyes looked sad and, Stiles found, somehow as if in pain.

 

You didn't need to be a genius to understand what Peter was thinking about. Stiles himself remembered all too well. How could he ever forget? All those people Peter had killed. The brutal, monstrous _ways_ he had killed them.

 

The works of a psychopath... They'll haunt the citizens of Beacon Hills for many years to come.  
Stiles included.

 

"You think you're a monster because of all the people you killed?" A risky question, Stiles was aware. But he was really curious. Did Peter actually feel bad about what he did?

 

"No", Peter answered, his voice hard as stone. "No, not _all_ of them. They deserved it. Most of them were responsible for the death of my family. Who wouldn't want revenge? The few others, I really don't care about them.  
"... But I killed Laura. My niece. I did care for her."

 

"She's the reason why your eyes are blue." It was more of a question than a statement.

 

"Yes", the sad wolf replied. "And I _do_ think _her_ death makes me a monster. But that's not what I meant. Not really."

 

Stiles didn't understand. "What _did_ you mean?"

 

"Stiles, did you ever think about the fact, that I'm basically the living dead?"

 

"What? Zombie-wolf? Yes, of course, I thought about that. Why?"

 

"Well, being a zombie or whatever... That's what qualifies you as a monster, i think."

 

"You're kidding, right?" Stiles couldn't believe his ears.

 

"What?" Peter asked, sounding a bit offended.

 

"Coming back from the dead - something that doesn't really feel _that_ odd in Beacon Hills - makes you feel like a monster, but killing dozens of people doesn't?! How is a disturbingly brutal mass murder not something a _monster_ would do!?"

 

"No, it's not like that..." Peter seemed overwhelmed by all his thoughts, like he had to sort them first. "Okay, well, first, I already told you: Most of the people I killed _deserved_ it!"

 

"And what about the others?" Stiles wanted to know.

 

"Well...I... T-They were at the wrong place in the wrong time! It's not my fault they got killed by me! I was a bit insane, okay!? You would be too, if you would have been through all that hospital madness, like I had to! I don't get, why people are still mad at me, because of that?" He said the last part more quiet, as if talking to himself, rather than to Stiles.

 

"Okay", Stiles gave up. Peter really was a freaking weird guy. Even though, he repeatedly claimed to be a lot better, a lot healthier in his head now, it was obvious, that he wasn't completely, and Stiles knew that.  
He'd never dare to fall for Peters' nice side - Even if it might be true and not only played to trick someone into some trap. But Stiles knew how dangerous it'd be to truly believe that Peter's completely sane again. If he ever was...  
No matter how much Stiles'll grow to like Peter, he'll never be able to trust him 100%; always think of the predator as someone, who'll rip your throat open as soon as you get to close to them.

 

But even though Peter made his heart race with adrenaline and still, after all those years, even scared him a bit, Stiles had to admit, he really was kind of enjoying to have Peter around him.  
He wasn't sure if this was one of those "Bonny and Clyde" things, were it turns you on to be in a relationship with a cold blooded murderer - and Stiles _definitely_ was _not_ in love or even had just a crush on Peter (because that'd just be plainly insane, okay?) - but, right now, Stiles really didn't want to be without Peter.

 

"And second", Peter continued, ripping Stiles out of his thoughts and back into reality, "I didn't mean, that being dead and then coming back to life makes me a monster... It's the _dying_ part that makes feel that way."

 

This got Stiles' interest again. He waited for the wolf to explain further.  
Peter understood.

 

"When Derek killed me... The way it felt... Not how it felt, when his claws dug into my flesh and ripped open my windpipe, I mean... I mean, how _dying_ feels... It's just... It's..." He was at a loss of words. But Stiles understood it. "You have no idea how that is."

 

"I do."

 

Peter snapped his head at Stiles and studied the boys face for a few moments, before looking back at the street. "What are you talking about?"

 

"I mean, I know how it feels to die. And I get why you're so scared of it."

 

"What!? You never died", he stated, but sounded pretty unsure about it.

 

"No, I didn't, but only, because I was connected to the Nogitsune at the time. I _would_ have died, if he wouldn't have kept alive longer than normally possible for a human. I never told anyone; everyone was worried enough about me at the time... It felt like dying. I mean, I'm not just interpreting. I _know_ that that's how dying feels like. I kinda _was_ dead, but my body could still move, because of Void. It was like deceasing without the being dead part."

 

Silence settled throughout the car.

 

"So I get it", Stiles finally repeated. "I get why you're traumatized and why you're scared of having to die again. I'm too."

 

~~~

 

They continued their aimless road trip for many more nights and days. Stiles didn't know, when it would end, when Peter would ask him to finally leave him alone, or when rationality would finally regain some control over Stiles, but for now, he was just freaking glad to be in this with Peter.

 

Stiles didn't know if he was just imagining it or not, but he felt like the way the two behaved towards each other became easier and a lot less tense.

 

He really liked it.

 

Other than that things stayed pretty much the same. They continued their routine of eating breakfast at dinners, visiting cities or just driving the entire day, then driving the entire night, talking, and then taking shifts at the stirring wheel so they could both sleep.

 

And in between the occasional stop at a pull-in or a gas station.

 

One sunny day, they were at a gas station. They had enough food and drinks for the next couple of days, but fuel was running low.

 

While Peter was refueling the car, Stiles went to the little store at the gas station anyway, to buy some snacks.  
When he returned to the car, Peter looked somewhat stressed.

 

"What's-"

 

"Get in the car" Peter interrupted him hurriedly. "I might have done something stupid." Before Stiles could ask again, Peter had already started the engine, and Stiles was very aware that Peter hadn't payed for the fuel yet.

 

Almost simultaneously, Stiles noticed one of the employees of the station running towards Peters' car from behind the gas station, where the restrooms are. The mans face was red, and he looked shocked and was yelling something Stiles couldn't make out.  
But in a matter of seconds Peter had pulled the car out of the station and as fast as possible back onto the high way and away.

 

Stiles just looked at Peter with a judging face.  
Peter kept staring straight at the street, but Stiles could see how the wolf had looked at Stiles through the rearview mirror for a split second - his eyes all big and round like a puppy, who definitely knows he's messed up - before quickly looking away again.  
Obviously he _had_ done something stupid.

 

"Don't ask", he simply said.

 

~~~

 

Stiles' accusing expression made Peter just even more nervous.

 

"Peter! Man, you're getting me into even more trouble, than I probably already am! Don't you think quitting my job without telling anyone and disappearing without a trace for _weeks_ isn't bad enough? Do you really think I also should go into jail for being an accomplice of something illegal _you_ did?!"

 

"Don't worry", Peter tried to calm the kid down a bit. "It's nothing you would get into jail for... Maybe. Anyway, they didn't really see you and the place didn't have any security cameras, anyway, so you're good."

 

Of course, Stiles wasn't happy with that answer, but it was the best Peter could offer at the moment.  
At least, it was better than the truth. And the truth about what Peter did, was still better than what he _could have_ done.

 

Stiles really didn't need to know how that one guy, drove his car so close to Peters', that he almost got a scratch into Peters' cars paint, and how Peter got really angry over that and kind of attacked the guy, wanting to kill him, but then thought better of it, because he remembered how Stiles implied that killing innocents is bad, and so instead of killing the guy, Peter only locked him into the gas stations rest room, threw the keys onto the roof of the station and then took the stolen car keys of the guy and drove his stupid car to the little pit next to the station, where it fell inside, and how that one employee had seen it all... Yeah... No, Stiles really didn't need to know any of that, Peter decided.

 

Stiles' heightened heartbeat was loud and annoying in Peters' ears.  
When it had happened, the incident didn't seem like a big deal to Peter, but now that he realized, he indeed did have gotten Stiles into possible trouble, Peter regretted attacking that guy.

 

He didn't want to stress Stiles, and especially not scare him. Even if it was only a bit (Stiles' heartbeat got normal after only a few minutes already).

 

But still, Peter knew that such actions could very likely get Stiles to leave him, and that was absolutely the last thing Peter wanted. He wanted Stiles to feel good, to feel safe.  
He liked the kid, always had; he enjoyed his presence more than he had ever enjoyed anything in his life.

 

Peter tried to think back to times before the Hale House Fire, when his family was still alive, or even further back, before Dereks' eyes had turned blue, when his family was still intact and well.  
Those memories - the ones from his childhood and early youth - used to be the best Peter had. But then he had met Stiles, and suddenly all the best memories of his life were the ones in which he spent time with the human boy.

 

Peter was aware of how he often behaved like he was annoyed by Stiles and maybe even would love to finally get rid of him, but the truth was, that he really... _liked_ Stiles.

 

And not just that, but Peter also had the strong feel, that he _needed_ Stiles.

 

Stiles was his voice of reason. He kept him from going mad again; falling back into old habits.  
He would never show it somehow or admit it to anyone - except for Stiles, maybe - , but Peter was incredibly scared of that.

 

Of going all Psychopath again.

 

He hated many - if obviously not all - of the things he had done, right after the fire, when his madness was the strongest, but also some of the things he had done a while after the fire.  
Like attacking his own daughter for example...

 

Yes, Peter regretted some things, and he knew he couldn't just blame his hospital stay and his wounds for everything. He knew he's not clear in his head.  
And he understood why people, like Stiles, were still scared of, or, at least, careful around him.

 

But Peter felt like Stiles made him better. Stiles was so good. He was everything Peter couldn't be.  
He was Peters' anchor.

 

So Peter couldn't lose him, which meant he had to behave, had to keep a cool head, and not turn all evil monster werewolf again just because someone gets on his nerves.

 

Stiles was good for him, and for some reason he was lucky enough, that Stiles didn't run away from him yet. Didn't leave him alone, like Peter would probably deserve.

 

Peter knew what a miracle that was. Peter didn't deserve Stiles.  
A nightmare didn't deserve a miracle.

 

But Peter would do anything necessary, to show Stiles how grateful he was for him, and that he definitely didn't take him and his presence for granted.

 

~~~

 

_One day, Peter is going to be my death_ , Stiles thought to himself. And he wasn't even joking. Although he had no idea what Peter had done this time, he knew it was probably a lot worse than Peter claimed it to be. And also, Stiles knew, that it definitely wouldn't be the last time.

 

Not for the first time did this whole scenario - with Peter and him driving through the United States in a car, doing illegal things - remind him of Bonnie and Clyde.  
And Stiles really wasn't in the mood to end up like those two.

 

Which probably meant, he should get the hell away from Peter and never, ever speak to the part-time-psychotic werewolf again.

 

But Stiles also really wasn't in the mood for that either.

 

No matter how much trouble Peter got Stiles in, Stiles absolutely didn't find himself intending to leave.

 

Also... he was pretty sure that the one, who had really gotten Stiles into the biggest trouble, was Stiles himself. After all his dad still didn't get any information from Stiles on his current whereabouts, and Stiles was sure, the FBI must have contacted his dad by now - Since Stiles didn't com to work anymore, and wasn't in his flat in Washington either...

 

Stiles had sent his dad a text message, at the beginning of Peters' and his road trip, in which he stated that he needed some time out, and was traveling with a friend, and that he was okay.  
But didn't exactly mention the known serial killer, who Stiles claimed to be his friend...

 

If his dad found out, Stiles was most certainly dead. And if Scott found out, Stiles would definitely first get tortured with a super long "What-the-hell-were-you-thinking"-speech from his best friend, and _then_ get killed by his dead.  
... Or Lydia, who probably would kill him with one of her "How-can-you-be-that-stupid?!"-stares.

 

Either way, Stiles was doomed, already.

 

Which meant, there were no real consequences to keep driving with Peter. Yay.

 

Stiles was glad his totally logical reasoning was on his side, because he really, _really_ didn't want to be without Peter anymore.

 

Not that he was planning his entire life with him, he just... He just couldn't imagine having to be without him in the foreseeable future...

 

Stiles remembered to vividly how his life had been only a couple weeks ago. How he had felt.  
But when he was with Peter, he didn't have any anxiety or panic attacks, all his insecurities disappeared, and he generally felt simply _good_.

 

Great, even.

 

Not just that he had lost of his worries, but he actually had _fun_. He enjoyed every single second of this road trip, and loved being with Peter.

 

Peter...

 

Stiles realized, he didn't just _like_ Peter. But he _needed_ Peter.  
Somehow, he had become his shield of protection and, for some reason, his safe haven.

 

Yes, Stiles saw the irony of the murderous horror-movie monster being his safe haven, but that _was_ how he felt.  
He couldn't change the way he feels.

 

_The way I feel_... The thought made Stiles a bit nervous. He had noticed it a while ago, already, and, by now, he was sure he hadn't just been imagining it...

 

The more time Peter and he spend together, the closer the two grew.  
Although Stiles felt like neither of them really understood what this thing between them was - At least it was never stated out loud or anything. But then again, when _do_ people make it official that they're friends now?

 

But they definitely liked being together, enjoyed the others presence, that was no question. Peter had made it obvious, that he wasn't actually annoyed by Stiles - Which filled the later with a wave of relief.

 

But still, there was this uneasiness within Stiles.

 

Even though, no one probably expected it, but Stiles wasn't exactly the most open person, when it came to his emotions. He tended to keep his emotions to himself, instead of showing them openly.  
Otherwise people might get annoyed or worried about you, and Stiles didn't like either.

 

No, he had learned after his mothers' death, that it's best to keep the really strong emotions for yourself.

 

But now, he felt like he had somehow stumbled into, what _maybe_ felt like a relationship with Peter?  
He wasn't even sure himself. Stiles didn't even really had admitted to himself yet, that he _might_ have, _very maybe_ a few feelings for Peter??

 

Although, he knew very well what he was feeling.

 

It was just kind of weird to accept it.

 

And the situation with Peter just made it all the more annoying.  
The relationship Stiles couldn't place.

 

He wasn't sure if Peter even knew how Stiles felt for him. So even if Stiles felt like he and Peter _might_ , maybe be together...  
Did Peter feel the same?

 

But Stiles was too scared to simply ask Peter.  
The relationship they currently shared - whatever it was - was too good, too precious to be destroyed.  
The risk of scaring Peter away if he told him how he felt, was too high. Stiles couldn't take it.

 

So he decided to just continue on the way it went so far, and simply hoped that Peter was understanding how Stiles felt.

 

Maybe someday there would be an official relationship between them.  
Or maybe not.

 

Maybe it was better if not.  
Stiles knew he should rather look out for a safe and sane relationship.  
And Peter definitely wasn't either.

 

And Peter and Stiles _together_... That sounded like something out of a nightmare of some teacher, or Stiles' dad, or any person, really, who can imagine what horrible, disastrous havocs these two could break if they put their minds together.

 

And the fact that Peter was the father of Stiles' ex-girlfriend definitely didn't make a potential Peter/Stiles relationship any saner.

 

Rationality laughed at Stiles for even fantasizing about it.

 

But rationality sucked.  
Stiles liked Peter, and Peter made him feel good and forget about depression and stuff.

 

... Stuff.

 

Stiles remembered the stuff that had ruined him. The stuff that had killed his everyday only weeks ago.

 

Now Stiles wondered if, maybe, spending time with Peter was just some kind of weird way to rebel against his adult life...  
Doing everything a sane and responsible adult would never do...?

 

But the depressing thought left Stiles' as fast as it had come.

 

Stiles knew that he wasn't just with Peter, because he wanted to do something stupid.  
Peter didn't feel like something stupid.

 

The wolf next to him let out a quiet yawn, while driving them through the night.

 

"Do you want me to drive?" Stiles asked.

 

"No, I'm good", Peter answered, and switched the radio channel to some punk rock song playing.

 

_I'm good, too_ , Stiles thought. And he realized, that he actually meant it. It wasn't just some desperate, lied "I'm okay" that you tell yourself to forget about how much your wanna-be life sucks.

 

Stiles actually felt _good. Really_ good.

 

And Peter was the reason for it.  
_Of all the werewolves_... Stiles jokingly thought.

 

They drove deeper into the night, deeper away from everything that once pretended to be Stiles' life.  
He knew sooner or later he had to deal with things - and he really hoped he won't have to deal with them on his own, but with Peter at his side - and he knew that pushing stressing things back is extremely bad for his mental health and the last thing he should do.

 

But maybe there was the possibility of just living with Peter, and not having to worry about anything in his life ever again? Or maybe not... Who knew?

 

But whatever... Right now, he was in this car with Peter, just living the life, and, _right now_ , he really didn't want to think about responsibilities or work or just any of that stuff.

 

And Stiles admitted: He wasn't quite sure yet, when "right now" would end...

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! :D <3
> 
> Did you like it? Yes? No? Please let me know in the comments section and leave me a kudo if you did like it! As you probably know, comments are what keep writers writing. ;)
> 
> I wanna thank my super patient partner, Wreck! I think I'm not really good at partner tasks and this was the first time, I've participated in a Reverse Bang, but I really, really hope you like what I did with your playlist. :D
> 
> ~ Irris the BloodFire Dragon


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